


Under Boughs of Sunlight

by EmeraldSoul



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Writer, Asexual friendly, Canon Suicidal Thoughts, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, NO DEATHS, No Smut, Suicide Attempt, ace friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSoul/pseuds/EmeraldSoul
Summary: A little fluff-piece with a bit of character exploration. Leo and Riario discover each other a little bit. *Note: Reference to suicide and intercepted suicide attempt (but nothing outside of canon behaviour). There are no deaths.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based on a dream I had. It left me with a nice little warm fuzzy feeling when I woke up and I hope it does the same for you :)

The sun was bright, and crawled lazily across the sky, giving the day a slow and sultry character. The forest canopy that veiled the light locked in the humidity that characterized the jungle, making it seem like they were in a greenhouse. A cacophony of sounds arose from the trees, comprised of the various shrieks, chirps and grunts of the forest creatures. Monkeys, birds, insects - all contributed.

This, of course, was the reason Leonardo da Vinci was here. He had dropped out of college, decided they had nothing of worth to teach him (he permitted no one to enforce their will or ideas on him) and gathered some money, and decided to pursue one of his long-time dreams: to make an exposition into the jungles of India, and sketch and learn from the natural wonders they held. 

He had hired a team of two elephants and their handlers to trek them through the jungle, along with any painting or sketching supplies he may need for the two months he planned to spend there.

It wasn’t all money he had saved by himself, of course. Such a venture cost a veritable fortune (at least in the eyes of a self-employed artist), and so, he had a tag-along on this journey - a generous sponsor who seemed to believe in his work, and believe it could go somewhere big. He saw Leo’s work at a gallery exhibit, and appeared quite captivated by the paintings. They had struck up a conversation, and Leo mentioned his wish to go to India, and that was when the admirer had offered his monetary support.

His name was Count Girolamo Riario, and though he had put his money towards Leonardo’s venture, he had been virtually silent for the entire trip. He rarely spoke to any of the crew, and certainly not to Leo himself...he started to wonder whether or not he’d done something wrong, or objectionable. 

He didn’t know much about Riario. The only things he knew about him were heard through the grapevine, and what he did know was that he was a dangerous sort of man. He worked for some large enterprise, often (or so he was told) doing the dirty work of his higher-ups. The shroud of mystery that surrounded the Count was proof enough to most that he was to be avoided, but this inevitably made Leo more curious. But he wasn’t about to go up and ask. He might be blunt, but he did possess some tact. And anyway, he needed to not make a nuisance of himself - however intriguing he was, Riario had funded his venture. 

He eyed the man curiously, thinking he would make an exceptional subject for a portrait. The lines and contours of his face, the way the light and shadow hung about him to give a rather severe impression...it was fascinating. But staring for too long was suspicious (and rude, though that typically didn’t stop Leo).

Instead, he turned his attention to a vividly green snake he spotted hanging in the tree just off the path. He knew so many that detested snakes and everything to do with them, but to him, this creature was perfection. Perfectly suited to the world around it, it twined slowly along the branches of the expansive tree, presumably in pursuit of its next meal. He found nothing terrifying about it. Only beautiful.

Finishing his sketch of what he believed to be a boa, he looked skyward and sighed - the day was almost at an end, and there were rain clouds rolling in. The problem with the jungle was keeping anything dry - it meant absolutely no sketching in the rain if there were no tents to hide under. Which meant Leo would be so terribly bored. Oh well. He could resign himself to mentally sketching the things that he saw.

It started to pour just as the sun was sliding down beyond the horizon. They had long since pitched camp, and Leo was sheltered under the overhang over the entrance to his tent. He had a lamp set up beside him on a makeshift table where he was sketching. His mind was lulled by the usual noises of the night - the guides and hosts making conversation around their lamps (as the rain made fire impossible), the elephants making the occasional grumble and consistent munching sounds, and the overwhelming rush of the torrential rain on the canvas. Even still, in this noise, Leo caught the sound of someone moving off into the underbrush. He looked up from his drawing to see a figure with a lantern move away from the lights of the camp into the inky darkness of the night-cloaked jungle. Naturally curious, and somewhat concerned for their safety, he picked up his lantern and made to follow. He didn’t bother to grab an extra layer, as the night (and the rain) were warm.

He stayed back a fair distance, unsure at first as to why he was doing so. Whoever it was came from their camp, so he didn’t anticipate any danger - from the person, at least. The jungle was home to many creatures, and the hunters were very adept at stealth. His mounting concern made him quicken his pace, losing his initial apprehension of being discovered. 

At last, after a long time of walking, the person appeared to have stopped in a small clearing of trees, where the rain fell in an uninterrupted deluge upon them. Whoever it was appeared to be kneeling, hunched over so that their face was pointed towards the ground. He (for after all his study of human anatomy, Leo could tell it was a man) didn’t seem to have thought to grab an extra layer either, and he was shaking...but it wasn’t cold. Something was wrong.

“Um...are you alright?” Leo asked cautiously. The man started, and scrabbled to hide something in his hand by tucking it clumsily under his leg.

“What do you want?” came the answer in a feral snarl. He whirled around, and immediately Leo recognized him as Count Riario. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I saw you wander off. I was concerned.” Much to his surprise, the Count only laughed for a response, but there was absolutely no mirth in the noise. It chilled Leo’s blood.

“Concerned? For me? Well, I’m...touched.” In the darkness, it was hard to tell, but he thought...he thought he might have been crying, though he had heard no indication of it in his pursuit, or in the gruff voice now. The rain and darkness simply made it too hard to tell if the Count’s eyes were red or not.

“Why did you wander off?” Leo practically had to shout; the rain was deafening. Riario turned his face away and said something, but he couldn’t catch it. Leo stepped closer, standing right in front of him. When he turned his head back around, Leo became certain that those were tears that stained his eyes. “Whoa...hey, what’s wrong?” He hadn’t known the man for long, but he was sure this was not someone who showed his tears altogether frequently. Without thinking, he grasped Riario’s shoulder in an effort at consolation. 

“I...I...why are you...here?” he asked quietly, so quietly it was hard to hear even from just in front of him.

“I told you, I was concerned…”

His eyes were utterly lost, and it seemed to Leo that he was gazing down into a pit where no light could reach - this was a man in utter despair. Dangerously desperate. Leo suddenly felt overwhelming relief that he had found him, and clasped his hand to his other shoulder. Wordlessly, Riario put his hand on one of Leo’s, and the floodgate just seemed to lift, and Leo followed him to his knees, cradling the Count’s head as he sobbed.

\----------

Morning in the jungle was announced loudly by a chorus of birds and beasts. It was less an interruption of noise than a transformation of the noises of the night into the noises of the morning. The rain had let up in the middle of the night, and Leo hadn’t had a wink of sleep. He had been afraid to let his guard down, in case the man curled delicately in his lap did something...desperate. Not to mention the fact that there was only two of them, and vigilance should be maintained at all times in the wild places of the world. 

Leo had decided to move them to the relative shelter of the trees, and in doing so, had discovered that the object Riario scrambled to hide was a dagger. He was sure that it was not for protection against wild animals.

Dawn was breaking, and the party would come looking for them if they didn’t return soon. He looked down at the Count. In slumber, his face held no trace, no crease of the troubles that plagued him in the world of the waking. He very much did not want to wake him; to return him to his pain. But he had to. He shook his shoulder, gently.

“Hey. Wake up now,” Leo said softly. Riario didn’t even twitch. He shook him a little harder. “Hey. I think we’ll be moving on soon,” he coaxed. Riario inhaled deeply and suddenly, signifying that he was now awake. He opened his eyes in short order, blinking in the sunlight.

“Artista,” he said by way of greeting. Then he realized where he was and how he was positioned, and he immediately scrambled away, horror filling his eyes.

“Riar- Count, it’s ok. Really,” Leo tried.

“Do not breathe a word of this to ANYONE. Understand?!” he snarled, and sped away furiously through the undergrowth. However, he was going the wrong way. Knowing words would have no effect, Leo got up and apprehended him by grabbing his arm.

“Unhand me,” he threatened, voice filled with cold fury.

“You’re going the wrong direction,” Leo stated.

“How in blazes would you know?”

“Photographic memory. I know the way. Trust me,” he assured.

Without any further exchange, Leo took the lead and steered them back on course. On and on they tramped, and he was shocked at just how far they’d wandered away from the camp, but soon enough the unmistakable grunting and stomping noises of the elephants came within earshot.

“Mister da Vinci!” one of the guides greeted them, “We were just on our way to find you and Count Riario. Easy to get lost.” The elephants already had their saddles on with the platforms that the passengers used.

“Yes, well, no need now! Carry on!” Leo said cheerily, Riario still in tow behind him. He turned to get a good look at him, and he seemed...hollow. Barely present. “Would you like to...ride with me today?” The question earned him a cold glare, and then the faintest of nods. 

“Might as well see what I have funded,” he murmured, and Leo made to thank him again. “Artista, if you thank me one more time, I-”

“Alright, alright! I get it. No thanks then. Just shut up and climb on.”

The handler in charge of their elephant (whose name was Sadie, an amicable beast that Leo quite liked) gave the command for her to kneel, and in doing so help them on. Leo went up first, then reached down to help Riario.

“Do not think me weak, artista,” warned the Count as he pointedly did not accept Leo’s hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grumbled, annoyed at the man’s stoicism. Oh well. He would eventually come out of his shell if he needed to.

But then Leo thought back to last night. He was certain that Riario’s intention had been to commit suicide, when he factored all the evidence together. But why? Whatever the reason, he reevaluated his assessment. He would try to reach out for him, for all the good it might do. He couldn’t just let someone slip away right under his nose. Wouldn’t.

Throughout the day, Leo made a point of shifting around to see what Riario was doing at (admittedly often) intervals. He assumed that he would be feeling quite naked after discovering that he was held by Leo all night, so he didn’t want to stare and make him feel even more exposed. 

He appeared lost in thought for the most part, and his face gave no indication of mood, and Leo had no idea what thoughts might be echoing in his head. 

“Why do you stare, artista? Spy a new subject, do you?” He must have held his gaze just a little too long. 

“You know you can call me Leo, right?”

“I think ‘artista’ suits just fine,” he asserted.

“Very well.” He went back to sketching, which happened to be a thorough study of elephant anatomy. He became aware of a presence just behind him, and knew Riario was watching him. 

“Impressive,” he stated simply, and looked on Leo’s work for a while.

“Mmhmm. Count, if I may-”

“You may call me Riario, if that’s easier for you.”

“THANK YOU,” Leo said dramatically. “‘Count’ sounds so very Dracula.”

“What was it you were asking?”

“Ah. Yes. Would you permit me to sketch you?” Riario snorted abruptly, and the noise was followed by a seemingly genuine chuckle.

“I haven’t the faintest idea why you’d want to, artista. No one finds comfort in my visage.” Riario’s tone was laden with self pity, or self loathing (probably both), and that made him want to snap him out of it. Leo was given to bouts of harsh self criticism as well, but he couldn’t stand the sound of it in someone else’s voice. Not that Riario was undeserving of criticism, he suspected, in fact probably quite the opposite, but Leo saw the beauty in everyone - “villains” included.

“Just...allow me. The result may surprise you.”

“You know, despite the title of Count, I am not a vampire. I have seen my reflection. There’s nothing I have not seen before.”

“Hush and let me draw you. Stay still,” Leo said, now becoming excited by the prospect of the specific technique he was going to use for the shadows. Without another word, Riario complied. He adopted a stoic sort of pose, yet somehow also appearing to be relaxed. It brought to mind the poise of a cat: equal parts wild, beautiful, and self-assured. If Riario hadn’t criticized his own appearance, Leo would have never known it was a disguise. That realization lanced a sharp pang of pity through his chest. 

His eyes ran over his subject’s face again and again, searching for every detail, every minute little difference that made Riario’s face so intriguing to him. The more he looked, the more he saw, and the more he saw, the more he appreciated. All in all, Leo considered Riario to be quite handsome. Completing the quick sketch, Leo stopped to see if he needed to edit anything about it. Nothing jumped out at him.

“There. At ease,” he said. “Want to see?”

“You have piqued my interest,” Riario admitted. He shuffled over to see the offered sketchbook.

He stared at it for quite some time. So long that Leo’s arm was beginning to tire, and he handed him the book. Tentatively, Riario took it, and flipped through every page, examining the sketches of varying style, detail, and subject matter. It seemed to take forever, and Leo began to fidget nervously. Finally, he flipped back to the page of the sketch bearing his likeness, and studied it closely once again. 

“Is this...truly what you see, when you look at me?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Um...yes?” Leo was confused by the question. His style may take some artistic liberty, but it was largely adherent to realism. He never drew anything that wasn’t in front of his eyes, when it came to portraits. It had to do with honoring the subject, and portraying them in their utmost glory. It was a moral belief that he’d never had reason to stray from. 

To his utter shock, Leo saw tears spring to his eyes. He felt a second-hand concern that Riario would start crying again, in the light of day, in front of the guides, but the tears vanished unshed. 

“It would seem I was wrong. You have indeed surprised me, Leonardo.” Riario didn’t meet his eyes, but Leo knew that this was a sincere compliment. The highest Leo could remember receiving. Rare was the moment that found Leo speechless, but here was one. 

“Thank you,” he offered lamely, hoping his voice would convey even half of the gratitude he felt. He went back to sketching, clearing his throat, hoping to dispel any kind of awkwardness that existed. But, strangely, Riario held his gaze. Leo was the only one balking, and this too was a new experience for him. His eye flew to a tropical bird of an unknown species, and he madly started sketching. 

\--------------

The day wore on, and the days here were long and languid, so there were many opportunities for rests in the day. The elephants kept moving, but Leo had fallen into the habit of stretching out and napping at some point in the day. He found it helped keep his inspiration levels up, and, he had had absolutely no sleep since the night before on account of Riario (not that he regretted a single moment), and so he just barely tucked away his supplies before he fell into a deep slumber. He felt reasonably sure Sadie’s handler would notice if something were amiss with Riario, and so allowed his vigilance over the man to relax.

He drifted between dreams, and all were pleasant. After weeks of being in the jungle, away from noise and cobblestones, it was hard not to feel at ease. However...he dreamed of home, and of his friends. One in particular came to visit. It was a dream he’d had ever since he could remember, of a kestrel perched on his crib when he was just an infant. He looked through the dream, into its curious yellow eyes, and thought how lucky it was that it was free to fly wherever it pleased, whenever it pleased. Flight! That ultimate miracle that had escaped mankind for so long…

He was aware he was waking up after a time, though he wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. Time always became distorted when he ventured into dreams. Strangely, he was sure he had the sensation of someone - or something - ever so gently rubbing his arm, which was extended carelessly to his side at present. He chanced a glance at the waking world and found, to his shock, that the sensation that he felt wasn’t merely the product of a dream. Riario was lying beside him, not close enough to hold, but close enough to touch. He was the one rubbing Leo’s arm.

His first thought: he felt privileged. Here was a man who had never betrayed any kind of weakness or any kind of feeling, and here he had shown both of those things to Leo twice - three times! - in a 24 hour span. Riario said nothing, but his eyes implored, begged even, that no comment be passed on the mere physical contact. Leo obliged. He let him trace the veins visible in his wrist, and stroke the small hairs that adorned his forearm.

Silently, questioningly, Leo reached out in turn, reaching for his cheek. He advanced his hand very slowly, and there was no anger or reservation in Riario’s eyes, so he continued. He contacted his pale cheek with the barest of touches, running his thumb along the line of his cheekbone, and reaching the rest of his fingers under his jaw to stroke the stubble there.

There was such trust, such...longing in those now warm brown eyes, that Leo no longer felt any hesitation at all. He felt Riario lean into his touch like he’d been starved of this sensation for a long time. Too long a time. Leo’s heart went out to him with such stunning abruptness that it nearly took his breath away.

They stayed like that, for an indeterminable amount of time. Leo began to drift off again, and he couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he swore he heard a small, breathy “Thank you…”

With the sun on his face, his hand on Riario’s cheek, and a smile of pure contentment on his lips, Leonardo once again drifted off into the world of dreams.


End file.
